


Touch Starved

by Higgystar



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, Kink Meme, M/M, Mentions of Underage, Mentions of almost rape, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:46:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1502420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from the Kink meme: After the hug from Beth in 'Still' Daryl learns that touch isn't necessarily a bad thing. So when he meets up with Rick, he finds ways to get the touches he wants from the other man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch Starved

Daryl had never really appreciated the smaller things in life before. It was just a shame it had taken the death of most of humankind for him to finally see them. There had just always been more important things to consider, such as where was his next meal coming from and could he sleep in peace without being awoken with violence. True he was still trying to answer the same questions nowadays as well, but having nothing, truly having nothing but your own life and what you found on the ground was making him begin to enjoy the things he’d been blind to before.

Without the prison and the rest of the group he felt lost and though he knew Beth was doing her best to help, the cheerful optimism of the young girl was sometimes too much for him to handle. She tried to pick him up when he was down, and give him some hope to cling to, as if there was a future for them both in this fucked up world. She didn’t understand that everyone they’d ever given a damn about was dead and gone, and they were alone, all they had left was to survive.

No matter how hard he tried to get through to her that they had to be strong and focus on living, she still wanted the little things. Her first drink turned out to be a fucking mission, but one he focused on because damn he hated it when she cried. Beth had her drink, coaxed him into having some and soon enough he was angry again, tears coursing down his face and the hatred and upset he’d kept within bubbled over the edge. He’d tried to apologise to her and explain that it was all his fault, that he should have been stronger, faster, better and able to defend them all like he’d wanted to.

He’d been so lost in his own misery that he didn’t even flinch when she’d hugged him.

It had only made him cry harder but not in a bad way. It felt like an upheaval of all his pain and guilt and even though she was so small against his back, there was a strength there that kept him going. He’d never liked being touched, it made him feel on edge and trapped, but here Beth was, clinging to him as if he was the most important person in the world and not just because he could protect her.

For once he hadn’t felt uncomfortable with the contact and Daryl didn’t find himself waiting for the inevitable hit or mocking for wanting to be close to someone if only for a moment. Sharing space with another person, someone who was alive and strong, willing to be there for him when he was being so pathetic helped a lot. It squashed whatever fear there was lingering within himself and after a while he managed to place his own hands over hers, pressing them to his own chest and finding himself glad that she was there.

The rest of the night had been spent getting closer, maybe not in the physical sense, but for once Daryl didn’t want to hide who he was anymore. He didn’t mind if Beth knew about the real him, because maybe, just maybe who he was now was enough to forgive who he had been before. Before now the only person he’d felt comfortable around completely had been Merle, and even then only on good days. Now though, he missed them all, the family, his family. Even if there was barely any hope left for them, he prayed that he would be able to find them and maybe feel even a glimmer of this safety again.

Beth had been kind and even though he knew she could see his nerves at being touched, she still pressed on just enough to not be overbearing but to get him used to it. When she’d held his hand it had been soft and gentle, barely a grip at all until he’d held her fingers tightly and made sure she knew he was there for her as she had been for him.

Memories of Merle and he as kids had made him give her the piggyback, remembering clinging onto his older brother’s back tightly when he’d been smaller, laughing and calling for Merle to hurry up and get them home. It wasn’t quite the same now, but at least he could give Beth a small reprieve from the pain in her ankle. He wondered if she’d only used his bow to learn or if she’d known it was his way of allowing her that little bit closer. Either way he appreciated her effort.

Now she was gone.

And through pushing himself to the limit, gritting his teeth through being so desperate for any type of human interaction and memories of them all as a group and a family, he had managed to somehow find them.

The bodies were heavy as he dragged them away, fingers still trembling in a mix of nerves and excitement, finding himself constantly glancing over his shoulder to check that Rick was still there. There’s a panic within him that they’re going to blame him for all of this and though he knows Rick was going to be disappointed in him for being with those sort of men, there’s still a huge relief that at least Rick was still here to be disappointed in him. It had been painful and now the adrenaline had finished rushing through his veins he felt tired, and in need of something, some kind of reassurance that he wasn’t passed out on the side of the road somewhere in a stress induced fantasy.

Keeping his eyes on Rick he doesn’t really know what to say. How do you explain to someone that even if they had been child-molesting rapists, they were still some kind of people to be around and despite it all, it had been better than being alone? He knows they have the right to kill him themselves, or maybe Rick would have mercy and just turn him away from his son and Michonne, kick him to the curb like a dog who bit once and could never be forgiven. Words have never been his strong point, neither was asking for what he wanted, so instead he simply tried his best.

Holding out the red rag to Rick he can see that the man isn’t quite all there, he’s staring into the distance, panting and through the blood staining his lips, Daryl can see the trembling at the corners of his mouth. He knows right now it’s about helping Rick, but the selfish part of him just needs reassurance that this is real and he really had found his family. Quietly he dampens the rag, making sure not to spill a drop of water before crouching beside Rick. Daryl is careful when he presses the rag to his face, mopping around the other man’s mouth and feeling the catch of his stubble on the fabric.

“Should save it.” Rick mumbles, and finally his eyes are in the here and now and Daryl feels a rush of gratitude that Rick’s gaze is focussed on him. “For drinking.”

The fact the other man wasn’t already yelling or adding more injuries to his collection was a good sign and though he pauses for a second to settle himself better, Daryl continues gently cleaning at the mess from his friend’s face. “You can’t see yourself.” He mumbles, turning the rag in his fingers to use a cleaner spot for Rick’s cheek. Nodding towards the car he itches to check on the others and make sure that they’re as real as the man before him, but one step at a time. “He can.”

Rick nods and when his hand reaches up to take the rag Daryl almost gives a sigh of relief when their fingers brush in a way that really couldn’t be part of his imagination. Slumping down next to Rick he makes sure to sit close enough that their legs touch, getting so much more from that transfer of body heat than he really should and allowing his shoulders to relax a little more. It’s so much more than it should have been to him and though he’s never been one for touch, he could definitely get used to the sense of comfort it gives him.

As they gather themselves and begin their journey towards terminus, he’s careful not to push too hard. They’ve only just been reunited and though he wants nothing more than to be as they were before in the safety of the prison the fact of the matter was they were still out in the open and in danger. He walks beside Carl, watching the other two up ahead and making sure to give the kid his space. The boy doesn’t ask any questions of him or talk at all, so Daryl lets him be after everything that had happened and enjoys the sound of Carl’s footsteps beside him and the reassurance that he was still alive.

He watches Rick as he walks with Michonne, always vigilant for danger but allowing himself a moment to breathe now that he was in a group he could trust. Rick had called him his brother. The other man knew what that meant to him, he knew exactly how deeply that bond ran between two men and he felt that connection with Daryl. In a way he wonders if Rick had been mocking him, but then he remembers that look in Rick’s eye and the silent echoes of his loyalty to Merle and Rick’s own connection with Shane. They didn’t mention the brothers they’d lost, but Daryl already knew there was a bond between them both, between the brother they’d gained.

It still hurt to think about Merle, but he knows it must still hurt Rick to think about Shane. He supposes it will always ache for the both of them, but maybe this link between the two of them will help the remember how it had felt before. He wasn’t a replacement and neither was Rick; they were just brothers now and if Daryl thought back he realised maybe they’d been brothers for a long time. The other man has done so much for him and had a trust and faith in him that the rest of the group didn’t for a long time. Despite their meeting of harsh words and squirrel corpses, Daryl knew he would do anything for the other man and for once in his life he felt certain the sentiment was returned.

The broken slat catches his foot at just the wrong angle and though he manages to catch himself from smashing his face to the floor, he’d still used his arm with the crossbow to do it and wound up with it jabbing his already sore side. Swearing to himself he takes a moment to breathe, gritting his teeth as his ribs ache, throbbing at the pressure and sudden movement. Carl is still beside him and he gives a nod to show he’s all right, not wanting to worry the kid too much.

“You all right?” Daryl nods to Michonne’s question, pressing a hand to the gravel below and preparing to push himself back to his feet. Before he can get that far, Rick is there, a hand around his waist and one under his arm, helping him up. It’s awful and really the other man is just helping, but Daryl lets himself stumble so he can lean on him for a few seconds longer. “We should have checked your injuries before, I just assumed…”

“’m fine.” He mutters, nodding to Rick and feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders lift a little when Rick gives a nod and small smile back. “Just tripped is all.” He feels a fool, but when Rick pats his shoulder and gives him a small shake and grin, the embarrassment flits away again.

Settling the crossbow back over his shoulders he presses a hand to his side, rubbing at the new bruises before following the two of them, still walking with Carl and giving the kid what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

Terminus is bigger than he thought it would be and with less protection than he’d assumed. For whatever reason there are no walkers surrounding the fence and that makes the uneasy feeling in his stomach roll a little more. Daryl’s never been a fan of new places and people, but if it was the difference between life on walker infested roads and safety, he’d go where his family were protected.

“We stay outside and watch the place, see what we can find out about this place and its people before going inside.”

It’s with an ease that he falls back into his place beside Rick. Following his orders and feeling more assured of his worth than he had in a long time. Michonne and Carl go off together and he can see the pain in Rick’s face at that, how he feels guilt and self hatred bubble up at what he’d done. Daryl doesn’t know if it would help to let Rick know he’d have done the same if it had been himself in Joe’s grasp. He figures maybe he should keep it to himself and instead follows the man through the woods as he buries some weapons.

“Just in case.”

Nodding he peers through the wire, hating how tidy it looks in there. Sure the people are probably inside and everything, but there’s just no life to this place at all. At least at the prison there was constant movement and the feeling of life. Placing his crossbow and bag at the base of a tree he looks up to scan its branches, pressing a hand against the bark and nodding to himself when he judges it worthy.

“You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking right?” Rick interrupts his planning and stands watching him with arms folded, looking like a parent ready to scold their child.

Shrugging he slips his knife from his belt, not wanting the thing jabbing into his leg as he looked for purchase. Placing it beside his other things he watches as Rick frowns to him, giving a small smile of confidence. “You want to check the place out don’t you?”

Rick sighs, the deep sigh of a man that knows he’s not going to get his way but still feels the need to let his side be known. “Daryl you’re injured.”

He just can’t help but give Rick a look at that, noting the way the man still has yellowing bruises on his face and a limp in his walk that speaks of a serious injury not too long ago. “I’ve had worse, besides I’ve climbed more trees than you’ve had hot dinners.” Daryl wants to reassure him with maybe a pat to the shoulder or something, but instead he looks up to judge the distance to the first branch.

Jumping up he hooks his fingers over the sides of the branch, swinging himself forwards to walk his way up the trunk, gaining a better grip and smirking at the loud sigh from the ground beneath him. Rick doesn’t complain though, instead Daryl feels hands rough with use press against his lower back, giving him a gentle push upwards as well as the knowledge that Rick was there for him. He makes quick work of the tree, clambering up and hauling his body along a branch until he can see inside the complex whilst being hid behind what leaves remained.

His bruises ache beneath his skin and though he’s climbed trees since he was tiny, the rough bark digs into his flesh like a bite. Each second he spends trying to spot anything useful he feels is wasted when he gets nothing to report except that it’s quiet so as carefully and quietly as he can he slips back down to the lower branches until Rick is in view. Hooking his arms over the branches he lowers himself down to the one beneath and so on until there’s only the first branch left.

In hindsight he really shouldn’t have been climbing in his state, but he’d been desperate to have something to report and to prove he was worthy of his place. So when he stretches his leg down a little too far and something in his side twinges at the movement, his hands automatically release the branch above to feel the wound. He slips, mind flashing blank and limbs instinctively grabbing at whatever he could until he it found some grip. Hooking his arms over the first branch he hisses in pain at whatever had hurt before, legs dangling in the air and probably looking like a fucking idiot to Rick below. He doesn’t want to just drop down in fear that the pain would flare up again or maybe get worse, leaving him useless inside of Terminus.

Before he can even ask Rick for a hand the other man is there and though Daryl’s too focussed on not releasing the branch yet, he can feel Rick’s arms reaching up to wrap firmly around his waist. He would look down if the damned branch wasn’t in the way, but he can feel the sureness of Rick’s grip, and automatically his legs swing to hook at the other man’s sides, reassuring himself that he was there.

“I got you. Let go Daryl, I got you.”

Rick’s earned his trust enough for Daryl not to hesitate in releasing the branch, feeling himself be gently and careful lowered to the ground instead of dropped like Merle had done when he was smaller. He’s embarrassed to say the least but when his feet touch the ground and Rick still doesn’t let go, he doesn’t complain. “Thanks.” Daryl mutters, feeling Rick’s fingers press against his side where his shirt had ridden up, pressing against his skin in a way that shouldn’t be so enticing.

The other man doesn’t laugh and doesn’t let got either, instead he just watches Daryl’s face, in a way that Daryl figures he would have hated before. Suddenly very aware of his free hands, Daryl isn’t sure what to do with them, eventually settling on placing them at his sides. Rick is chuckling behind a smile, closing his eyes for a second and leaning closer until their foreheads are pressed together. It’s something Daryl knows, it reminds him of Merle but instead of preparing to run from a following punch, he finds himself leaning a little heavier on Rick, trusting this man implicitly. He wants to ask what’s so funny, but can’t quite get the words out when Rick is so close and he feels the happiest he’s felt in months.

It’s like the world tunes out around them and it’s just he and Rick, the other man holding him steady, keeping him grounded and not minding that he’s an idiot who climbed a tree whilst injured. “Can’t believe I almost lost you.” Rick mutters and if they weren’t pressed as close as they were, Daryl doesn’t think he’d have heard it at all.

“Was just a slip.” He shrugs, feeling the way Rick’s fingers stroke over his skin in tiny circles. It should be uncomfortable, usually he’d be pulling back scared and waiting for the inevitable hit. Instead he just feels calm for the first time in a long time and when Rick’s fingers slide down his side to curl about his hand in a gentle hold, he knows that this is what it feels like to be home.

“Wasn’t talking about the tree.”


End file.
